


Last Friday Night (Think We Kissed But I Forgot)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Glee
Genre: Coarse Langauge, F/F, F/M, Sexual Situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel throws a house party of epic proportions, all thanks to her new best friend Santana Lopez. The ramifications of a fantastic Friday night are rather life-altering… in the best of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Friday Night (Think We Kissed But I Forgot)

Waking up in a bathtub for the third Saturday in a month should have been a wake-up call, but all Rachel could focus on was the throbbing in her head. On the bright side, it was her  _own_ bath, not a feat she could stand by for previous predicaments. Perhaps the fact that waking up in  _any_ bathtub  _didn't_ surprise her was reason enough for her to question the current insanity of her life. But even as she thought it, her mouth curved in a smile. She wasn't sure she'd trade the craziness of late for the loneliness she'd suffered previous to it. And one of the main reasons for that was sitting on the edge of the tub holding a bottle of water and a handful of ibuprofen. Despite her immediate desperation to swallow the pain medication, her eyes narrowed on her friend. "Noah's right, you're the  _devil!_ "

A sly, signature smirk stared back at her. "You flatter me," Santana returned, waving the water bottle again.

Rachel forced herself to a seated position; her body aching from the hours she'd spent laying with her feet hanging over the edge and her face pressed uncomfortably against the cold tub. "Isn't that a rather large amount of ibuprofen?" she fretted, looking from the pills to the girl holding them.

"More the merrier," she said, shrugging.

Rachel pursed her lips. "Your loose view on recommended dosage worries me."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatevs, so I poured a few too many; I'll put some back when you're done."

Taking three from her outstretched hand, Rachel slipped them onto her tongue, wrinkling her nose at the chalky taste, and swallowed them down quickly, shaking her head as if to will the lacking flavor away. "What time is it?" she wondered, peering at the window, trying to figure out how much of the day had already been wasted.

"Before noon," she muttered, standing and moving to the sink to search through the medicine cabinet for something.

Her eyes widened. "And you're  _awake?_ "

Santana snorted. "Haven't slept yet… and I'm still a little buzzed."

Rachel frowned, pushing herself up and out of the tub, groaning as her head throbbed once more and her balance was lost. Santana, though apparently still slightly inebriated, caught her before she could tumble back into the bath. Sitting next to her, the cold beneath her thighs was a comfort. Thrusting a hand into her hair to clutch at her pounding head, Rachel was slightly distracted by the multiple braids she found threaded through her fingers. They occupied the left side of her head; cornrows that began at her temples and flowed intricately down. "Brittany?" she asked, holding the tails up for Santana to see.

Proud of her girlfriend, Santana grinned. "She's getting better at drunk-braiding… She'll probably take the ribbon next week."

Rachel blinked owlishly at her. "The  _ribbon?_ Since when are there drunk  _braiding_ competitions?"

"Since Brit found your Wall of Awesome and wanted some ribbons of her own." She shrugged, standing from the tub and sticking her hands in the back pockets of her jean shorts. "So far she's got first place in table dancing and third in beer pong…"

Rachel's eyes suddenly zeroed in on the yellow ribbon attached to Santana's top; the one  _Rachel_ had won when she was four years old for a tap-dancing routine she'd spent eight weeks working on. A black permanent marker had crossed out _Tap Dancing_ and in its place was  _Beer Pong_. There was a quick rush of irritation that bloomed in her chest, but just as quickly it receded. "Just how many of my ribbons were  _destroyed?_ " she wondered, resignation lacing her tone.

Santana fingered her own first place ribbon and then shrugged. "I dunno, like nine…" She eyed her a minute, like she was waiting for her to blow. When she didn't get the expected reaction, she shrugged. "I saved your singing ones, though… Put 'em up on the shelf in your closet…"

Rachel blew out an appreciative sigh. It was a small relief, but it was  _something_. "Remind me again why I allowed all of your delinquent friends to host this party at  _my_ house?"

She raised a brow. "It was  _your_ idea, B…"

Casting her eyes up in thought, Rachel tried to muddle through her hazy recollections to just what had transpired the night before. But all she could think of was how the last month had come to change so much of her regular day-to-day life. Usually, Saturday's were reserved for lessons and working out; the last three had been dedicated to cleaning up after Friday night's bash and recovering from the same. She had theLatinagirl in front of her to blame for her recent change in schedule, and yet scorn or loss didn't well up inside her but instead a rush of appreciation. Yes, she would have to spend Sunday making up for her loss of dedication toward her craft, but she couldn't say that the last few Fridays and Saturdays of fun and leisure weren't worth it.

She tried to remember exactly what it was that brought her and Santana to this point, where just a month ago the oftentimes scary and out of control girl that was now flossing her teeth in Rachel's mirror would have been more prone to tearing her apart and stomping on her self-confidence. Perhaps it was the dismal end to the Finchel relationship that Rachel had held in such high regard; a loss that no longer ached even when she searched for the familiar pang that used to plague her heart. She and Finn were officially over and instead of feeling like she'd lost a limb or wondering about what her next scheme might be to regain his love and attention, she felt at ease, relaxed. She didn't  _need_ Finn and she didn't _want_ him. Part of the reason for that was because of Santana; because the girl who had once openly talked about her like she was little more than the gum she might have to scrape off the bottom of her shoe now regarded her as one of her closest and most trusted confidants. Such a turn-around from the years previous; from the many she'd spent in high school hoping she wouldn't have to lay eyes on the girl who hated her for no good reason.

The day she broke up with Finn she'd been resolved; she'd been strong and confident and she'd laid it all out for him. " _I love you, but I love my dreams more_." He'd argued, of course, saying that he wanted her to get her dreams too. And she might have believed that if she hadn't overheard him discussing his future with Quinn; if she hadn't heard him say that he expected he'd stay in Lima and so would Rachel and they'd make a good life there. He'd been so certain, with no regard whatsoever toward what Rachel had worked so hard for; for the  _agreement_  they'd made when they reunited after Nationals that they would spend only their senior year together because she would  _not_ give up New York for him. Only to realize that he had planned to change her mind all along; he'd planned to encourage her to stay there, with him, using her affection for him against her. That was the last straw and when she used his own words against him, he'd gaped, struggling for an argument and not finding one. When she walked away, it hurt, but no matter what he said or what promises he made she knew that she could never trust him with her heart again.

She spent three days in a funk, questioning herself and her decision, wondering if maybe Lima wasn't so bad, and then Santana found her at the piano, maudlin and depressed, plunking her fingers against the ivory keys and mourning her relationship. With a no-nonsense look on her face, she said, "C'mon Berry, Brit needs a new outfit and since you're the reigning queen of short skirts, we need your opinion," before she proceeded to drag Rachel out of the choir room, into her car, and completely ignore her many protests that school was, in fact, not  _over_ yet. Thus commenced her very first skipped afternoon of classes; it was a heady taste of rebellion that she looked back on with pride.

From then on, Santana expected her to hang out with her and Brittany; she didn't  _order_ it, but she did look expectantly at Rachel when she and her girlfriend did anything. Be it going for lunch, picking up coffee, seeing a movie, whatever, she cast her eyes at Rachel as if to say, "You in?" and Rachel readily answered. Friendship was a near foreign concept to her. She had Kurt and Mercedes but depending on whether or not they were in a relationship she couldn't always rely on whether they would be interested in spending time with her. Of course, she was in full support of Kurt and Blaine and Mercedes and Sam, but being a third or in some cases fifthwheel was not a welcome feeling. Too often she'd stood on the outside looking in and it was a tiring experience. While Brittany and Santana were in a relationship they were also best friends, and while they were affectionate they didn't leave Rachel out. In fact, she couldn't count on both hands how many times they'd teasingly asked her to  _join_ them in their domestic bliss. She chose to believe it was teasing, but there were a few occasions that she was almost certain they wouldn't really mind if she did lean in for some of their 'lady kisses.' Unfortunately, she was very comfortably heterosexual and while she would never deny that both Santana and Brittany were very attractive girls, she didn't have those feelings for them. So friendship it was and friendship it would remain, for as long as they would have her anyway.

The first Friday they spent together, she'd been out of her element. The party she had hosted at her place more than a year ago paled in comparison to the rowdy, out of control bash that Santana threw. And to be honest, she felt lost and completely uncomfortable; the commotion and drunken revelry hadn't mixed well with her curiosity and limited experience. All around her were seniors, visiting college students, and some younger peers from school, but all of them seemed so at ease in their surroundings while she felt like a tiny fish in a very large pond… full of piranha. But as she had previously, Santana took her under her wing. She told her what she should and shouldn't drink, who she should and shouldn't associate with, and where the appropriate waste baskets, sinks or bathrooms were for when she inevitably got sick. Not as naïve as some might think her, she consulted a second source to be sure Santana was in fact  _not_ trying to do her harm, whether for a laugh or otherwise. Perhaps more naïve than she might think, that second source was Noah. Contrary to popular belief, however, he was much more trustworthy than one might assume. And he took his Jewish-American Princess and her questions quite seriously, even if he was a cuddly and affectionate drunk that encouraged her to sit on his lap more often than not.

_After a long search through the crowd of rowdy, drunken strangers, she exhaled with overwhelming relief at having found him._

_"Noah!"_

_He grinned up at her, his eyes roving from head to toe and then winking at her._

_She cleared her throat, her face warming up. Before she could, no doubt, become distracted by his flirting, she raised her chin, stepped up close enough that their knees knocked and told him, "I need your expertise!"_

_He smirked up at her from his seat at the table, leaning back and patting his leg for her to take a seat. "Lay it on me, Berry."_

_Suffering a brief moment of second-guessing herself, she then decided that it wasn't completely repellant to be sitting in his lap. From what she'd seen, he wasn't even half as inebriated as the other party-goers and why not trust him with her seat if she was about to trust him with her well-being for the rest of the night? It made perfect sense to her. And besides, much as Noah liked to tease her with his affections, she knew that they were friends. They'd_ been  _friends for some time now. He was regularly at her house to enjoy sports with her fathers and he was regularly offered up his skills with the guitar for whatever song she might be singing, even sitting in her room and on camera while she knocked one out of the park for her MySpace fans. So she was encouraged to think that while his behavior seemed a little forward, he would treat her with due care._

_Tucking her hands beneath her dress to keep it from sliding too high as she took a seat in his lap, she looked up at him, noting the vaguely glazed look of his eyes that said he'd already had a few of the free drinks being handed around._

_The booming bass of the music made her insides throb and she felt off-kilter, even though she hadn't touched any of the drinks Santana had dubbed okay. As somebody rushed past her, she was nearly knocked off her wobbly position on Noah, but his arm snaked around her waist to hold her steady, fingers lazily stroking her belly over her shirt. Since he was keenly distracted by the beer in his hand, she assumed he didn't even notice he was acting so affectionate with her. "So whattya need?" he asked, raising a brow at her._

_Momentarily distracted by his handsome face, she tried to shake her head, her thoughts muddled. "Oh, um…" She frowned. What was it she'd come to him for again? "Oh!" she cried, remembering. "Yes, right… Well, I came here with Santana—"_

_"Yeah, what's up with you and Satan?" he interrupted. His lips pursed. "You didn't switch teams on me, right?"_

_She blinked. "Switched…? Oh! Oh, no." She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid as much as Santana implies I would be welcomed to the land of hot women and their many pleasures, I'm afraid I'm still partial to boys." Vaguely picking at a loose string on the collar of his shirt, she told him, "It appears Santana and I are…_ friends _, of a sort…" Her brows furrowed. "Unless you have reason to believe she might be playing a much unwanted trick on me and I should quickly run in the opposite direction." She stared at him with naked fear. "She's…_ not _, right?"_

_His easy smirk fell. "She's a bitch, but…" He shrugged. "She seems to like you or whatever…" He shook his head. "I dunno. Bitch is crazy; I don't understand how she works."_

_Rachel smiled a little, relieved. "Well, that's comforting…" She sighed, wiggling atop his knee to a more comfortable position and leaning her side against his chest. "Now that that's settled, I was hoping you might help me with my drink choice…"_

_He reached across and tugged on a brown ringlet. "Nothing tastes like pink here?"_

_She flushed. "Not… Not that I can tell…" She looked around at the wide variety of drinks being served. "I'm afraid my knowledge of alcoholic beverages is quite limited… I mostly just drank whatever concoction you handed out that night…" she explained, thinking back to her own party._

_Instead of making fun of her, he nodded. "All right, well, how drunk you wanna get?"_

_She quirked her head; she'd never considered that. "How many levels are there?"_

_He smirked. "You got a lot to learn, Rach…" He squeezed her lightly._

_She smiled at him. "I think I found the right teacher."_

_He stared at her a long moment, something in his face that she couldn't quite discern. Clearing his throat, he finally said, "All right, pay attention…_ "

The rest of the night was dedicated to learning the various stages of drunkenness, from buzzed to blacked out, and then showing her which 'girly' drinks he thought she'd like to the harder stuff that burned going down the first few times. And yes, by the time it was over, she did regret trying some of the many drinks he knocked back like a pro, but she also knew that despite whatever she did or however it came back on her, Noah was there to hold her up when her legs got wobbly or take her home when she was passing out. Eventually, Santana came back for her, encouraging her to dance, and she lost Noah in the fray, but Santana was just as protective, if in a different, brasher way.

So yes, her first Friday night party was uncomfortable and new, but it was also eye-opening. And though she woke up in Santana's quite unfamiliar bathtub the next morning with a headache that made her entire body throb, she was exceedingly happy with her first real foray into teenage rebellion. The following day of nausea and lethargy did, however, make her question if she was truly cut out for that lifestyle, and she declared more than once that she would never do it again. But come the following Friday, Santana would only have to say one simple sentence and she found herself once again enjoying the freedom of a seventeen year old girl in her prime. " _You're gonna need experience to pull of that acting shit, B, so join in and learn a few things_."

"You think too loud," Santana suddenly said, sucking her clean teeth and tossing the floss string into the garbage can. She leaned a hip against the sink. "So?" She wiggled her brows. "IHOP?"

In answer, Rachel's stomach rumbled loudly. She flushed at its betrayal and nodded at her friend. Just as she reached for the door, however, she paused and looked back at her. "Just how worried should I be about what's on the other side of this door?"

Santana pursed her lips and looked away thoughtfully, brows knit. "You got money; call a cleaning service."

Rachel sighed. That was never a good sign. Santana tended to deflect when she knew something was wrong. Resigned, she opened the door and stepped into her bedroom to find it in complete disarray. There was glitter…  _everywhere_. She wasn't even sure how that much glitter could be concentrated in one place; the whole of Lima must now be suffering a complete lack of it because it was all in her bedroom. Before lamenting over how she would get it out of her carpet or off her walls, her attention was drawn elsewhere.

"My… My  _bed!_ " she cried, staring at the splintered post that was angled toward the carpet, chunks of wood clinging to her floor while the pink gauze that hung around the top was missing. "What…  _What?"_

Santana shrugged, walking in behind her. "Could be worse," she said.

" _How?_ " Rachel demanded.

"The guy in your bed could be naked…"

Her head whirled back around and found that  _yes_ , there in fact  _was_ a boy lying in her bed, thankfully fully clothed. Peering at him in confusion, she walked closer, wringing her hands. "I don't know who that is," she said. Turning around, she stared at Santana with wide eyes before shrieking, " _I don't know who that is!_ "

"Heard you the first time," she muttered, rolling her eyes. Circling the bed, she tipped her head and stared at the stranger, eyes narrowed. "I dunno… Maybe he's Dillon's cousin…"

" _Who's Dillon?_ "

Santana shrugged, unconcerned. "Some guy from UNOH."

Unable to help herself, Rachel stomped her foot. "I  _told_  you there was an age requirement at this party! No frat boys!"

"Yeah, I think he was kicked  _out_ of UNOH, so… Not  _really_ a college student…"

"Oh and that's  _so_ much better," Rachel scoffed, turning on her heel and stomping toward her closet. "I'm going to change…" She wrinkled her nose and lifted her top to her nose. "I smell like a mini-bar."

Santana just grinned at her, pulling out her phone to text Brittany, no doubt.

Rachel was happy to find that her closet was thankfully untouched by the chaos of the rest of her bedroom. Everything was in its expected place. She found one of her favorite and most comfortable skirts and a loose blouse. As she stripped away her black mini-skirt, that she couldn't even remember changing into, she noticed the top she was wearing was not the one she'd donned for the party; in fact, she'd been wearing a little black  _dress_  that complimented her curves last night, where this was  _huge_ on her small frame… And  _red_ … And a  _jersey_ … Pulling it up and off herself, she tipped her head thoughtfully as she stared at the red McKinley Titans football jersey and the familiar white number that made her stomach clench in a not entirely  _unwelcome_ manner. Turning it around, she fingered the white lettering that read  _Puckerman_ and felt a jolt that had her lips tingling. A distant thought was niggling at her brain, desperate for her attention, but she couldn't _quite_ remember just how it was she found herself wearing Noah's jersey or why it was making her entire body flush.

Uncertainly, she called out, "Santana…?"

Knowingly, she replied, "Nice shirt, B. Color really brings out your skanky side."

Glaring at her closed closet door, wishing it could burn a hole through and singe her friend, she grumbled under her breath and turned back around to redress in her new outfit. If she spent an inordinate amount of time folding Noah's shirt, even though she knew it would have to be cleaned since it smelled  _awful_ , she chose not to look too deeply into her actions. Fresh and dressed, although she really wanted to have a shower, she stepped back out into her bedroom and her good mood faltered once more at the destruction. On the bright side, however, the stranger was now out of her bed and seemingly gone. Santana sat in his place, still texting one-handed.

"His name was Jack… And I was right; he was Dillon's cousin…" She snorted. "Totally thought he was at Dillon's place." She turned to Rachel, looking her up and down and then shrugging, as if her new apparel was  _acceptable_. "Since I got rid of Goldilocks, you're buying breakfast."

Used to Santana's behavior, she simple rolled her eyes and turned to leave the room. "Fine, but just so we're clear, I  _will_ expect you to help me find a cleaning crew that will have this back to order before tomorrow…" She bit her lip worriedly, pausing at the top of the staircase. "Also, if dad and daddy come home early, you're taking half the blame."

Santana scoffed. "They  _love_ me."

Rachel's eyes widened dramatically as she took in the lower half of the house. While Santana was right, her parents  _did_ happen to very much adore her, Rachel wasn't so sure that they would be as understanding if they saw the disarray their house was in at the moment. She felt a deep pang of regret when she realized just how completely her house had been turned over by the party she'd held. There was food all over the floors; cheesies and chips crunching beneath her feet as she walked through the chaos with her mouth gaping in shock. She tipped her head questioningly before hurrying to the deck doors and rushing onto the patio. Were those…? "Santana! Are those  _pink flamingoes_ in my pool?"

Leisurely joining her, Santana laughed at the bobbing plastic lawn ornaments. "Shit, I  _told_ them they'd float!"

She turned around to yell at her;  _whose_ were they, anyway? But her eyes caught on the barbecue instead; on her dad's _new_ barbecue; the one he'd saved up to buy. "Barbies!" she shrieked.

"Yeah,  _ironic_ , right?" Santana smirked. Adopting a horrific Australian accent she said, "Barbie's on the  _bar-bie_ …"

Rachel gaped at her. "What  _happened_ last night?" she asked, shaking her head.

"You don't remember?"

Wringing her hands, she shook her head. "I can't… I don't remember anything after…" Her brow furrowed. "We were doing those awful Jell-O shots that you always tell me are  _my_ drink, which I vehemently deny, and then…" A haze clouded her memory and she pursed her lips. "I'm not sure if I should be thankful I  _don't_ remember what mischief we got up to or incredibly worried about what I let you and my  _guests_ do to my property…" She gazed around her deck and through the doors to her destroyed living room and her shoulders slumped. "I'm an awful daughter…" she muttered, sighing.

Santana threw an arm around her, leaning into her lazily. "Yeah, probably…"

Rachel glared at her.

"But you're an awesome host… And friend… Or whatever…" She started examining her nails, as she often did when she started getting sentimental or  _nice_ and didn't want anybody to pay attention to it.

Rachel didn't bother hiding her smile.

Santana scoffed and shoved away from her. "Get over yourself,Berry, I'm still a little buzzed, remember?"

Her smile didn't dim; instead, she hooked her arm with Santana's and drew her back into the house. "Before I spend too much time worrying about the damage, why don't we go out for breakfast and find that cleaning company? I would ask for the number to the group you used last weekend, but I'm quite sure that you've been blacklisted and they'll no doubt recognize me and not come…"

"That was an  _epic_ party," Santana mused, kicking garbage out of her way as they walked to the front door. They were almost there when Rachel spotted it.

Stomach in her throat, she asked in a near daze, "Is that my chandelier?"

Santana looked past her, peering at the floor thoughtfully. "What's left of it," she said unapologetically.

Rachel sighed, dropping her forehead to her palm. "It's situations like these that make me question my sanity… And our friendship."

She scoffed. "You were already crazy, B, I just make it cool." She walked off, not surprised or disturbed by the food and garbage that littered beneath her feet. Pulling the door open, she walked out into the fresh air of Rachel's front lawn and walked toward her car, not bothering to wait for her.

Rachel sighed, taking one last disappointed look around. She wished she could remember what had transpired last night. Despite the fact that the aftermath was daunting, to say the least, there was something inside her that said she had  _fun_. There was a warmth that filled her chest and a tingling in her lips and an excitement that tugged at the corner of her lips, like perhaps the night she couldn't remember might just have been, as Santana favored calling anything she liked,  _epic_.

And then she saw the boy passed out on her lawn. "Um, Santana…" She peered at the boy laying face down on the grass, arms and legs spread. She looked at her friend and then pointed at the boy questioningly.

Santana stared, arm hanging out the window of her car. "That's the DJ… Leave him… I'm hungry."

In a matter of seconds, she simply deflated and started walking to the car once more. It wasn't as if she could do much to help him; hopefully, he'd wake up and meander home before she returned. If not, well, then she'd do something… What, she didn't know. Santana was more experienced with these situations, so she was letting her take the lead. Until it became obvious she would have to do something differently anyway.

Climbing into the passenger seat, she plugged in her seatbelt and then eyed Santana worriedly. "If you're still inebriated, maybe I should drive…" she suggested.

"Buzzed," Santana corrected before reaching for her mirrors, readjusting them, and then tearing out of Rachel's driveway like the cops were on her heels.

Suddenly she remembered red and blue lights and familiar sirens and dread filled her stomach. "Were… Were we being _chased_  by law enforcement?" she feared.

Santana threw her head back and laughed. "Chased but not caught," she cheered, taking a left turn a little sharply, ignoring the stop sign entirely.

Groaning, Rachel's head fell back against the headrest. "Oh Santana…"

"Say it again, but deeper…" she teased.

Despite herself, she rolled her eyes, a grin tugging at her lips. And even though she knew she shouldn't, possibly because it was ridiculous and also because it only encouraged her, she  _did_. " _Oh Santana…_ "

With an exaggerated shiver, Santana smirked at her. "Very good, Berry, you're coming along nicely…" She sped up at a yellow light, ignoring her passenger's protests. "I know you're faking it though, since I know what you  _really_ sound like when you're turned on…" At Rachel's curious look, she smirked darkly. " _Oh Noah…_ "

Her eyes widened. "Wh- _What?_ "

Not bothering to explain, Santana only laughed again, looking like she had the type of secret she might hold over Rachel's head for as long as possible, dangling it until her friend cracked under the pressure. Odd, but she rather liked the idea, if only because it meant Santana would be around awhile longer, or at the very least  _associate_ with her. It wasn't her fault that she was continuously wondering just how much longer Santana would stick around, putting up with  _Yentl_  as it were, until she tired of her and moved on or just continued on in her little Brittany-and-Santana bubble of perfection. But instead of bugging her anymore with whatever information she might have gathered from the previous night – and Rachel was sure it had something to do with the fact that she'd woken up wearing Noah's jersey – she pulled into the local IHOP, jarring the car to a stop and shifting into park. "Good… Brit's already here," she said, eyeing the yellow Volkswagen beetle that Brittany fondly referred to as  _Ralph_ , for what reason Rachel had yet to gather.

Pushing out of the car, she followed Santana into the restaurant, breathing the scent of maple syrup and pancakes in deeply. Unlike the last few Saturdays that ended with her feeling queasy, this morning she only felt hungry. She was sure it would change on her at any second, but she wanted to take advantage of her hunger when she could. She didn't want to spend the rest of the day lying in her destroyed bedroom, wishing the night before had been different, especially when she couldn't even remember what happened.

Brittany hopped up onto her knees in the booth and waved with both hands. "Santana! Rachel!" she called, as if she hadn't just seen them last night, or they weren't just ten feet away and had already spotted her. She waved her hands down for them to sit with her and then said with little preamble, "Lord Tubbington couldn't make it… It's okay though, 'cause syrup is really hard to get out of his fur."

Rachel simply blinked at her; it was statements like those that would have thrown her for a loop a month earlier, now they were so usual that she hardly noticed. Sitting across from them, she didn't bother to hide her smile as Santana kissed Brittany softly before resting her head on her girlfriend's shoulder and propping up one side of the menu while Brittany picked up the other. They were a cute couple, even if Santana continuously argued that they were  _hot_. " _Kittens are cute, B, we're all kinds of hot_."

Rachel directed her eyes to her menu and scanned the familiar print. What she loved about IHOP was that it had an egg substitute and they didn't look at her like she was crazy when she asked for them to use cooking spray rather than butter. When the waitress came by, Rachel happily asked for a veggie omelet with the egg substitution and made it very clear she had a dairy allergy; mostly because many didn't take her 'vegan' diet very seriously, but if she said it was an allergy they were required to pay attention to her demands. Santana always seemed amused at her twisting of the truth and happily ordered a large stack of unhealthy, but admittedly tasty-looking, pancakes with bacon  _and_ sausages. Brittany took a little while to figure out what she wanted, making both Santana and Rachel promise she could have some of what they were having too so she could narrow her list down.

Inhaling the steam of her tea, Rachel rested her chin on her hand and furrowed her brow thoughtfully. "Now will you tell me just what happened last night?" she wondered.

"Learning exercise," Santana said, pouring sugar into her coffee long after even Brittany winced. At Rachel's bemused expression, she sighed. "Mr. Shue wants us to give that whole 'write our own song' shit another chance, remember? You need more life experience before you can pen anything interesting…" She cocked a brow. "I don't want My Headband the Sequel, okay?"

In answer, Brittanyhappily sang under her breath, " _You're the only one I can count on, my headband, you're my headband_ …"

Ignoring her, Santana continued, "So we invited a few people over and we partied it up…" She shrugged. "You should _thank_ me…"

Rachel frowned. "Not only can I not  _remember_ , so writing a song about it is pretty much  _impossible_ , but was I the only one who witnessed the destruction of my house?"

"I told Mike not to swing on the chandelier," Brittany said, shaking her head solemnly.

"Yeah well, Tina got him to the Emergency room pretty quick, so he's probably fine," Santana reassured.

Rachel's eyes widened. "The  _Emergency_ room?"

"It was a few  _stitches_ ," she dismissed, rolling her eyes. "Maybe a cast… We'll see…"

She gaped, her face falling to her hands. "This is awful… Mike is our  _choreographer!_ "

" _Hey!_ "Brittany pouted.

"Sorry, Brittany, he's  _one_ of our choreographers," she corrected.

"Write it in his sympathy card," Santana snorted.

She flushed. "I-I didn't mean I don't  _care_ , I just…" She huffed. "Regionals is only a few weeks away…"

"Party ended less than six hours again and you've already got that stick back up your ass," Santana muttered, bringing her coffee up to her mouth.

She glared. "There is no  _stick_ up my… my  _butt_ …"

"You know, you swear a lot more when you're drunk…" She smirked. "You're  _friskier_  too."

"I do  _not_ …" She crossed her arms.

"Show her the  _video!_ " Brittany said, bouncing in her seat.

"Th-There's  _video?_ " Rachel worried.

Santana snorted. "You're all over Facebook."

"No!" she gasped.

Brittany pulled out her iPhone and started fiddling before eventually handing it over to Rachel. "I put up the pictures before I came over!" she told them proudly.

Rachel stared in shock at the hard evidence of her night; Brittany did always enjoy snapping pictures, but this was overkill. Since she was at the end of the album, she thumbed back to the beginning. She vaguely remembered getting ready with Santana and Brittany, so she wasn't  _entirely_ surprised to see pictures of them in her bedroom, occasionally not  _entirely_ dressed but thankfully never showing anything  _too_ racy, hair only half-done, midway through dressing up to host her first real house party. She chose to ignore the one she had with the gleeks since realizing how vastly different the experience was. She became more and more red-faced as she thumbed through picture after picture of her wearing close to nothing while she and Santana traded shirts, dresses or skirts, fiddling through their combined wardrobe to find something to wear. Her eyes helplessly fell to the comments to see there were a fair few.

With one hand braced on her closet door, wearing a red lace bra and a black mini-skirt, she bit her lip and reached back to pull her heel on, her leg stretched back and taut. From another's perspective, she could certainly see how it might seem  _saucy_ or staged, but really she hadn't noticed Brittany had her iPhone primed for a picture; she'd only been _dressing_. The comments were surprisingly nice, aside from a few crude suggestions, and she felt her cheeks flare even darker when she noticed even Noah had commented...  _'Very nice, Berry_.'

She stared at the comment for much longer than necessary, glancing up at the girls across from her briefly wondering if she'd been caught and seeing Santana's knowing smirk, before eventually thumbing through a few more before eventually coming to those involving the actual party. Picture after picture of people she did and didn't know were knitting together her memory, bringing forward her blurry recollections of just what happened. As she paused on one of her and Santana standing on the kitchen table, dancing to some forgotten song, her smile bright and  _real_ , she wondered if it wasn't worth it. She couldn't remember ever smiling so largely without it being fake; for her parents' sake or a role's.

Thumbing through a few more, she tipped her head in confusion as the location changed. "We weren't at my house the whole night?" she wondered.

"No, we went out to Jazzy's bar," Brittany told her, smiling.

Rachel's brows furrowed. "We're underage."

"You underestimate me," Santana reminded. "I'm friends with the bouncer and after a little sweet-talking he let us right in…"

"We left my house  _unsupervised!_ " she gasped.

She shrugged. "Mercedes was there; she said she had it under control…" She frowned thoughtfully. "She was on the way to a room with Sammy though, so I don't know how much attention she was really paying to what was going on downstairs…" She wiggled her brow suggestively.

Rachel sighed, rubbing her temples. "I've never been so irresponsible."

Santana turned the phone back around to her and tapped it. "It gets better…"

Frowning, Rachel continued through the pictures, her eyes growing wider as she watched herself and Santana doing shots… off a nameless man's admittedly chiseled stomach. "Body shots, Santana?" she whined, shaking her head.

"Hey, that guy was awesome! He paid our whole tab!"

"We don't even  _know_ him!"

Santana shrugged. "I dunno, I think we got to know him pretty well," she argued, smirking.

Brittanynodded. "He tasted like coconut."

They stared at her a long second, blinked, and then ignored it.

"Anyway, we got kicked out of the bar an hour later, so no worries, your virtue was still in tact," she scoffed.

Rachel frowned, turning her attention back to the phone. And like she expected, they did in fact get chased by the 's many pictures of their escapade showed a laughing Santana behind the wheel while Rachel hung out a window, her position flashing a mortifying amount of red panty, shouting something back at the pursuing cops. A memory flared to her mind…

_"I think the red and blue lights means we have to stop," Brittany reminded them, sitting center in the backseat._

_"Screw that! Those motherfuckers want us, they're gonna have to_ chase  _us!" Santana argued, her eyes gleaming with excitement, and not a little too much alcohol._

_Rachel looked back at Brittany and patted her knee. "Don't worry, Brittany, Noah showed me how to make a shiv from his unfortunate stay in Juvie…" she told her solemnly. "I'll protect you when we're eventually taken in by the authorities."_

_"Nobody's going to jail!" Santana argued. "Jesus, we were just_ streaking. _It's a_ public  _park; we should be allowed to do what we want!_   _They should be happy they got a_ look _, okay?" At their unconvinced expressions, she told them, "Hey, I've been driving since I was twelve! You think this is the first time those_ puto's  _have tried to chase this head-bitch?" She shook her head and then screamed out the window, "_ No me jodas _, assholes!"_

_Rachel shook her head. "You're only provoking them."_

_"Good!" she laughed, pressing her foot down on the pedal a little harder. "Good for nothing Lima PD…_ Vete a la mierda! _"_

_Rachel looked back at Brittany. "Well, if you can't beat them…" She turned then, leaned out the window and yelled, "Eat our dust, coppers!" She looked back in the car and grinned. "I saw that in a movie!"_

_Santana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're really bad, Berry…"_

_She frowned. "I can be bad!"_

_With a gleam in her eyes, she said, "Prove it!"_

_Pursing her lips, she took the challenge and leaned out the window again. "Lima PD sucks, um… uh… Santana?"_

_"Cock, Berry!"_

_"Oh, uh… Lima PD sucks… Cock!" she screamed, giggling. "Large, fat, hairy ones!"_

_Santana laughed. "You're getting it!"_

_"Oh, I'm going to regret this tomorrow," she complained._

_They took a turn a little too sharply and she nearly fell out the window, but Brittany grabbed her leg and Santana hooked a hand around the end of her dress. "Get your ass in here, Crazy…"_

_Flushed but excited, Rachel sat back in her seat. "See? I can be bad…"_

_"Yeah, B…" Santana nodded at her proudly. "You're my little badass in the making."_

_She threw her hands up in the air and cheered, "Cock!"_

Rachel blushed furiously. "Oh my god," she cried. "I—I provoked the police department! I suggested they…" She laughed in hysteria. "I'm going to jail!"

"Please!" Santana scoffed. "If they knew who we were they'd have arrested us already…" She waved her hands around. " _Obviously_  we got away with it."

She shook her head mournfully. "There are likely warrants out for my arrest  _right now_ …" She sniffed. "I can see the headlines now… ' _Rachel Berry, Broadway Star, Secret Deviant, Harasser of Law Enforcement!_ '" She wailed, "I'll never get my Tony!"

Brittany reached over and patted her hand. "It's okay… Puck's way better than Tony… Tony's a jerk!" she told her comfortingly.

Rachel stared at her in confusion. " _What?_ "

Santana shook her head, rolling her eyes to herself. "Not Tony  _Clayton_ , Brit, she means that trophy thing for being a badass Broadway actress or whatever."

Despite her crude manner of description, Rachel was proud to say Santana  _actually_ knew what a Tony award was for.

" _Oooh_ …" Brittany nodded.

"What does Noah have to do with my law breaking?" Rachel wondered, still confused over Brittany's thinking.

Before they could reply, the food arrived and Brittany was quickly distracted.

Letting her steaming omelet cool down, Rachel distracted herself with the pictures once more, thumbing through to find them in a  _liquor store_. "I thought you said you didn't have your fake ID anymore," Rachel said, holding the phone up to Santana.

"I don't," she replied through a mouthful of pancake. "I just tipped the dude behind the counter big time…" She smirked. "Good thing your daddies gave you that emergency credit card."

Rachel blanched. "You  _didn't!_ "

She shrugged, finishing off her coffee and then holding it up for a waitress's attention. "B, I was  _drunk_ , and you said we had to stock up your dad's liquor cabinet… Since the party was still raging, we needed to bring refreshments back too."

Rachel felt her headache overpowering the ibuprofen. "I'm dead… I didn't make it out of Lima; I didn't lose my virginity; I never made it to New York to prevail amongst the less but still widely talented; my parents are going to kill me…" She pointed at Santana. "I demand you sing Celine Dion at my funeral… Save Babs for Kurt, he'll understand the sentimentality more…"

Santana rolled her eyes. "You're so dramatic," she muttered. "Look, you're not dead. We didn't spend  _that_ much. And hey, like you said, I'll take half the blame… Tell the daddies-Berry it was all me and you were just an innocent bystander or whatever…" She smirked them and raised a brow. "And if you need help with the virginity thing, I'm pretty sure that can be taken care of anytime you want…"

Rachel frowned. "We've discussed this, Santana. You're a very attractive girl, but I just don't feel that way about you. No offense."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Okay, first,  _your loss_ …" She motioned to herself arrogantly. "Seriously."

Rachel tamped down an amused smile.

"And second,  _bitch please_ , I meant  _Puck!"_

She felt heat creep up the back of her neck. " _Santana_ …" Her eyes darted away. "Noah and I are—"

"Totally hot for each other."

"—just friends," she stressed.

Even Brittany snorted then. "No," she said. "Puckleberry is like hot pie… Better with vanilla ice cream."

Again, Rachel simply blinked at her. "I don't understand that reference."

Brittany, irritated that she wasn't being understood, looked at Santana beseechingly.

But she waved it off. "Look, you can fight me on this all you want, but I know—Hell,  _everybody_ knows—you and Puck are endgame."

She shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure if it's lingering effects of near alcohol poisoning, but I don't understand what you're trying to say…"

Sighing, she leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. "Puck  _wants_ you, Rachel…" It was the use of her first name that jarred her into taking Santana seriously. "Like, not for just a night or a really hot weekend, he  _wants_ you… _Completely_." She stared at her, waiting for her to get it, and when Rachel's eyes widened, she grinned, nodding. "He's been hot for you for… Well…" She looked away and then shrugged. "Let's just say a  _really_ long time…"

Brittany nodded agreeably.

Brows furrowed, Rachel looked between them. "There's been no indication of that."

Santana's eyebrows raised. "Seriously?"

Rachel, almost certain now, nodded staunchly. "We're  _friends!_ "

"So when he comes over and watches football with yours dads…?"

She frowned. "Male bonding is important… I mentioned to him that my dads were both sports enthusiasts but it was hard for them to find male friends… Noah offered his expertise."

"Uh-huh, and him bringing vegan snacks is just,  _what?_ Him trying out new shit?" She shook her head, obviously exasperated. "He's trying to  _impress_ you!"

She gaped, shaking her head. "He had  _leftovers_ ," she argued.

"Are you  _kidding?_ " she laughed incredulously. "Since  _when_ does Puck eat anything  _healthy?_ "

She had to admit that he wasn't exactly the most health-wise individual, but  _still_ …

"Okay, so how about when he drives you to and from your lessons?" Santana stared at her smugly. "Even your six am Sunday tap lessons!"

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Rachel stared at the tabletop. "I told him dad and daddy were rarely home on Sunday mornings and my car's been making some weird noises…"

"Puck doesn't get up before  _noon_ on weekends… Not unless  _you_ need something," Santana told her.

She  _had_ noticed that he tended to sleep in as often as possible. In fact, when she had such early lessons he didn't bother going home. If he didn't follow her in to watch her dance, he usually just napped in the car until she was done. She thought it was rather sweet of him, actually. And that had nothing to do with the fact that he was extremely handsome when he slept… or when he was awake… or just on a minute-to-minute basis.

"I think you're reading too much into this," she muttered.

"I can name five times just in the last  _week_  when Puck's been so nice to you I almost upchucked in my mouth," she argued with a scoff. "The guy's so head-over-ass into you it's almost disturbing…" She shook her head. "I mean, at least he's still got his balls. When he was into Zizes, he pretty much chopped those off and told her to keep them in her gym bag, but he's still  _Puck_ when he's into you…" Shrugging, she grabbed up her fork and cut off a chunk of pancake. "He's pussy-whipped, but he's got his limits…" Stuffing her mouth full, she said, "You don't try to change him though, so maybe that's why…"

She stared at her, brows knotted. "I don't?"

"No, like…" She swallowed tightly, hardly chewing. "He's a  _badass_ , Rach, you can't tell him to start practicing peace and love…" She rolled her eyes. "He likes to fight and he swears like crazy and he's  _all dude!_ " She wiggled her brows. "And yeah, you tell him not to fight so much, but even  _you_  know that he needs his Fight Club to get all that pent up aggression shit out. Even if that's just so you can patch him up after… And even if you don't  _like_ swearing, I  _know_ it turns you on when he says fuck…" She smirked smugly at Rachel's blushing face. "And y'know…" She got a little serious then, "You really think he's gonna get out of Lima, which is pretty big for him, so…"

Rachel considered what she'd said and then nodded slowly. "Noah  _will_ get out of Lima…" She stared at Santana sincerely. "And so will you, San…"

"Whatevs," she muttered, focusing on her meal again.

Rachel reached for her hand and squeezed. "You'll make a great lawyer some day."

In rare form, Santana actually looked a little uncertain. "Yeah?"

She nodded brightly. "The  _best!_ "

"Fuck yeah I will," she agreed, smirking.

"Santana Lopez, PhD," Brittany agreed.

They didn't correct her; instead, Santana wrapped an arm around her girlfriend and squeezed. "Hells yeah, baby."

Rachel put the phone down and decided she'd piece together the rest of the night later. Instead, she focused on eating her lukewarm brunch and chatting with her two friends. They helped her find a cleaning service and she told them where the fake-rock with the key in it was so they could get to work immediately. While that was in full swing, Rachel followed Santana back to her small house in Lima Heights Adjacent, pleasantly greeting Dr. Lopez, who was spending his Saturday off from his clinic doing lawn work. He waved cheerfully at them and then returned to pulling weeds. She trailed behind Santana back to her bedroom, where theLatinagirl promptly crawled into her bed, telling her to do what she wanted; she already knew where everything was.

While Santana snoozed, Rachel left for the bathroom, borrowing a few of Santana's clothes to change into. Having spent more than a few sleepovers at the Lopez house, she was familiar with where the towels and washcloths were housed. Dr. Lopez was a single parent to two children and he welcomed Rachel with open arms; he often said she was a refreshing change from Santana's usual crowd, which his daughter never failed to roll her eyes at but didn't verbally argue with.

Climbing beneath the hot spray of the shower, she closed her eyes and sighed appreciatively, scrubbing at her skin until she was fresh and clean, washing away the remnants of last night's rebellion. Spearing her fingers back through her wet hair sparked a memory, and standing there beneath the spray she remembered their random visit to the lake some time around midnight, the moon their only real light.

_"This feels like a bad idea," Rachel complained, sticking her toe in the cold water, arms tight around her waist. She was more than a little buzzed, but a voice in the back of her mind could still be heard complaining that she was out of control. Their recent run from the Lima police department was a good supporter of that. "I'm not sure it's warm enough for swimming..."_

_Brittany_ _was already dragging off her shirt and kicking away her shoes. "Polar bear swim!"_

_She shook her head. "It's a little too late for that, Brit."_

_The blonde girl shrugged, wiggling out of her skirt._

_Rachel turned her head away; despite the last month she'd spent with Santana and Brittany, who were by no means self-conscious of their bodies, she still felt uncomfortable if her eyes were in their direction when they stripped down. Which they did often, since they liked to exchange clothes regularly and share change rooms when they went shopping._

_Noticing, Santana snorted. "C'mon, B, if it's too cold, we'll go back in…" She tore her own top and bra off and tossed it back to the grassy ground. "Lose the clothes and give in to peer-pressure." She winked, hooking her thumbs in the strings of her barely-there panties._

_An immediate stab of jealousy hit her; Santana was gorgeous. While not_ attracted  _to her, she could recognize that her friend was a beautiful girl. Even without the obvious enhancement to her breasts, her body was curvy in the hips, flat across her stomach, and exotic by all means. Hips swaying, she walked right over to Rachel and looked her up and down with a raised, suggestive brow. "You're hot too, B… Show mama the goods," she teased with a wink._

_Rachel flushed, but untied the halter of her dress, letting it fall to her waist. Unlike Brittany or Santana, she wasn't as generously endowed in the chest area, but she'd always felt comfortable with her looks, at least until she set eyes on girls like these two or Quinn Fabray. She kept her chin up, hoping her insecurities weren't showing, but her eyes fell to Santana's chest and then her own and she flushed. Not as subtle as she might have hoped, she wondered aloud, "Were they very expensive?"_

_Knowingly, Santana glanced down at her chest and then shrugged a shoulder. "Weren't cheap."_

_Rachel bit her lip thoughtfully._

_"Don't even think it," Santana ordered, in an oddly firm voice, very much unlike her usual teasing lilt. "Puck would_ disown _me if he found out you got on the table 'cause I flashed the ladies and you got all…_ insecure  _or whatever…"_

_Brows furrowed, she wanted to question why Noah's opinion on the matter was at all important, but then Santana continued with, "And I regret it or whatever, too…" She frowned at her chest. "They were already awesome; I didn't really need the help, y'know?"_

_Rachel nodded agreeably._

_"I think you're pretty," Brittany told them, already standing in the water, where it lapped at her waist. "Both of you!"_

_Santana reached for the dress bunched at Rachel's hips and gave it a shove so it slid to the ground, pooled around her feet. "You're hot; you don't need to change anything." She shrugged, stepped back and then nodded her head toward the water. "C'mon… One quick swim. I'm still sweaty from the bar and it's gross. We'll head back to your place after and see if it's even still standing."_

_Rachel worried her lip. "We shouldn't have left…"_

_Rolling her eyes, Santana walked out into the water, dragging her hair up over her head and combing through it with her fingers. "Regrets are lame, B. Get over it."_

_Sighing, she stepped hesitantly out of the ring her dress made, swiftly got rid of her panties, and then walked slowly to the water until it reached her knees. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, and eyed the couple floating not far from each other, murmuring to one another softly. Not for the first time, she wished she had a companion of her own. Oddly, her mind didn't wander to what Finn might be doing just then or if he missed her, as it had many times in the past, but instead she wondered if Noah had joined in at the festivities at her house. One of the reasons they were even having a party was because the Titans had won their last game of the season; or that was the excuse Santana had given when talking her into it. So it was likely he had joined in with his football companions to drink to his heart's content. He hadn't been there when Santana convinced her they needed to go out and get refreshments, instead detouring to a bar for a couple hours, but he had winked at her that afternoon in the school parking lot when she told him she was having a 'celebratory get together.'_

_Standing there, deep in thought, she was surprised when a burst of water splattered against her back, making her shriek and arch away from it. Brittany's answering laugh filled her ears and she frowned back at the blonde, now backstroking away from her without a care. Hesitantly, she reached down and flicked water at her. Instead of being irritated Brittany smiled at her, like she was just glad she was joining in. She grinned back; acceptance, though still a little foreign, always made her chest ache in the best way._

_And then Santana jumped on her back, using her added weight to drag her back into the water. She came up spluttering, glaring daggers at her laughing friend. Before she could start ranting, Santana slapped the surface of the water with her hands, sending the spray up into Rachel's face. Thus commenced a splash war, where her anger was quickly replaced with good humor as she, Brittany and Santana all chased each other around, splashing and dunking one another. Eventually, panting from the excitement, they ended up floating somewhere in the middle, close enough that whenever she reached her hands out to keep herself steady, she brushed either of their arms._

_The peace after a very busy night was almost as welcome as their friendship._

_"Would it be too sentimental of me to say thank you?" she wondered, breaking the silence._

_"This is why Finn called you a_ needy  _drunk," Santana sighed._

_She flinched, eyes closing momentarily before her good mood faded and she moved to stand up._

_"Santana!" Brittany chided._

_Moving to follow her, Santana pushed up to her feet and waded through the water, reaching out and grabbing her shoulder, tugging her to a stop. "Ignore me, I'm a bitchy-drunk," she said, pulling her back._

_Rachel frowned. "You're not that inebriated… And I happen to know for a fact that you're actually a_ weepy  _drunk."_

 _She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I was_ really  _fucked up that night… And maybe I'm just_ naturally  _bitchy,_ whatever _." She glared out in the distance, uncomfortable. "Look, I didn't mean it when I said you were needy…"_

_Brittany_ _swam closer, doggy-paddling around them._

_"You don't have to sugar-coat it, I know I can be… overbearing," she admitted._

_Santana shook her head. "Fuck that. You're just…" She shrugged. "I'm still getting used to being nice to you, okay?" She reached out and dragged a hand through Brittany's floating blonde hair. "Usually reserve that for Brit…"_

_Eyes falling, Rachel gathered the courage to ask, "Why_ are  _you being nice to me?"_

 _She peered at her, brow quirked. "You're not so bad, Berry… Especially when you don't have_ Finnocence  _on your arm…" She lifted a shoulder. "I know what it's like to be rejected and it…_ sucks _…" She half-smiled at Brittany. "I got another chance."_

_She frowned. "I don't want another chance with Finn…" Her brows furrowed. "And I thought you were against that."_

_"I_ am _," she said seriously. "Hudson's a douche… And he has pyramid nipples." She smirked, chuckling under her breath._

_Rachel rolled her eyes. It seemed Santana used that particular insult quite often and was amused every time._

_"Whatever, just because you deserve a second chance doesn't mean it's with_ him _…" She stared at her, eyes a little wide, like she was trying to imply something._

_Sighing heavily, she let her head fall back. "We've discussed this, numerous times… While I think you and Brittany are both very attractive—"_

_"Okay,_ seriously _, I'm not_ always  _trying to hook up with you…" She put a hand on her hip. "But you should at least know what you're turning down!"_

_Brows furrowed, she stared at her questioningly. "I'm sorry?"_

_Santana glanced at Brittany, who simply smiled, nodding in return. "A little experiment," she said then, eyeing Rachel as she took a step closer._

_Rachel wondered if she should take a step back, but her feet were anchored resolutely to the sandy bottom. "Um…"_

_She reached for her, her tanned hand pushing Rachel's sopping dark hair behind her shoulder. "It's just a kiss, B… Relax."_

_She blinked rapidly, her heart beating rapidly against her chest. "Oh, but I'm really not—"_

_"Shh…" Her fingers danced up the side of her neck. "Close your eyes."_

_Against her better judgment, Rachel's eyes slid closed and her breath fluttered out of her shakily. When nothing immediately happened, she tried again, "Santana, I—"_

_And then she felt it; the softest, gentlest brush of lips against the corner of her mouth. Her breath caught. Santana pressed slow, lingering kisses along her bottom lip, suckling it between her teeth. She gently grazed her nose against Rachel's and her breath left her in a rush, but it wasn't because of how very good a kisser Santana obviously was. That simple brush of noses brought back a memory of Noah; of his deep, probing tongue and the heady taste of him, the masculine scent that made her whole body shudder with awareness, and that welcomed weight of him on top of her. And then Santana nipped at her, ever so slightly, and a shiver ran down her spine. Noah loved it when she did that to him. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. She wasn't kissing Noah; she was kissing_ Santana _. Or, well, Santana was kissing_ her _. But still…_

_Santana's fingers feathered through her hair at her temples, grazing down the shell of her ear. There were two more hands then, on her damp, bare shoulders, rubbing away the tension. She felt the warmth of Brittany at her back, as she brushed her hair out of her way, and then her cool, wet kisses cascaded all over the back of Rachel's neck._

_Santana's other hand slid down her side, stopping to rub her thumb lightly along Rachel's hip bone, and she felt them, the both of them,_ everywhere _. Her entire body was somehow both warm and cold; their touch softly brushing along sensitive skin, their lips and tongues tasting her neck and shoulders, her lips and chin and even the tip of her nose. The lake water gently lapped against her skin, cooling her down._

 _It was… overwhelming and erotic and_ mesmerizing _._

 _But as good as it felt, as sweet and soft and truly_ attentive _it all was, her body longed for the give and take of control. She longed for the take-charge passion of rolling across a bed, fighting for a little dominance, giving it up when he met her intensity full throttle. He was invading her again; her thoughts and her desires. She drew back, opening her eyes, and stared back at Santana's glazed, dark eyes. Her lips were swollen and she was panting a little. In the moonlight, she was ethereal. She was always beautiful, but in that moment she was truly breathtaking. And then her lips curved in that suggestive smirk._

_"Not bad, B," she told her, not at all surprised that Rachel had stopped her._

_Brittany drew back too, pressing one last kiss to her shoulder before circling away to wrap her arms around Santana's waist, resting her cheek against her arm. "You taste like pink."_

_Rachel didn't know why, but that was very flattering._

_"I'm sorry," she told them, frowning. "You're both very—"_

_"We know," Santana interrupted. She patted Brittany's hand. "You can't help who you love," she said then, and before Rachel could question her, she waded out of the water, hugging Brittany to her side._

_Naked, confused, and more than a little aroused, Rachel followed after them, wondering briefly if what just transpired was considered an experiment or a ménage a trios… Regardless, it was fascinating and she was rather proud of it. She couldn't say it would ever occur again, but perhaps Santana was right. She couldn't knock what she hadn't tried. Now that she had, she could see the appeal, but she also knew that deep down she wanted something different, something decidedly not female._

_"C'mon," Santana called after her, shimmying into her skirt. "Beer's getting warm and I wanna see if your party's still rocking."_

_Rachel hurried out of the water, grabbing up her dress quickly, and with a smile she noted that she wasn't self-conscious about her body anymore. Not one little bit_.

The water was no longer hot, she noticed, when she returned from her memory, only to find she was staring slack-jawed at Santana's shower tiles. Giving herself a shake, she quickly shampooed and conditioned her hair before hopping out of the shower, trying to understand just what happened while they were out at the lake. She wasn't embarrassed by her behavior, not really, but she was a little shocked at how at ease she'd been. The intimacy witnessed between Santana and Brittany suddenly took on a whole new look. Having enjoyed it herself, she felt a stab of jealousy toward them once more; what they had together was beautiful and she wanted it for herself. Not with  _them_ , per se, but even a fraction of with a boy would be nice.

Toweling herself off, she stood before the sink, pulling out Santana's rather expensive facial cleaner. Just as she was about to rub it into her face, she caught her reflection and gaped. There, clear to see, was a  _hickey!_  She peered closer at it through the fogged mirror. Or, she supposed, it  _could_ be a bruise. A rather unusual place for it to be, but still… She bit her lip, remembering that Brittany had kissed the  _back_ of her neck, but not the front, and Santana had concentrated on her face. So  _who_ … Her eyes narrowed; if she looked close enough it almost looked like… like a  _star_. She grinned. How absolutely fitting was that?

Deciding she would just have to ask Santana about it when she woke up, she continued washing her face. In fact, she would have a  _lot_ of questions for her friend.

Dressed and feeling much more refreshed, Rachel stepped out of the bathroom and made her way back to Santana's room, her clothes bundled under her arm. She was nearly there when she spotted Sebastian, Santana's little brother, sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with a football and glaring at the floor.

"Hello Bastian," she greeted, smiling at him.

Though young, just ten years old, he was a very smart boy and he always seemed happy when he saw her. Santana said it was because he had a crush on her and Rachel could admit she had noticed he tended to blush in her presence, but she was sure it was just because she paid so much attention to him and she was, admittedly, much nicer to him than his sister was.

He looked up, eyes wide, and was half-way to smiling before suddenly he was scowling again. "Hey," he muttered, hopping off the bed and tossing the football away.

She followed its decent to his Transformers bedspread. "I didn't know you liked football." In fact, judging by the many soccer posters he had up, she was fairly sure she knew what his favorite sport was and it wasn't nearly as  _caveman_  as football.

He slumped on his computer chair and glared back at the ball. "I  _don't_."

"Oh…" She stepped inside, peering at him worriedly. "Are you all right?"

" _Fine_ ," he stressed, kicking the underside of his desk petulantly.

"Okay…" She sat down on the edge of his bed, picking up the football and twirling it absently in her hands. Her mind swept back to the one time she played, if she could even call it that, and a smile quirked her lips.

 _'Are you ready for this?'_ Noah had asked, gripping the mask of her helmet in his long fingers, staring at her intently.

' _Let's kick some ass!'_  she'd cheered back gleefully.

Sebastian scoffed, seeing her happiness and apparently not agreeing with it.

"I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong…"

In all honesty, Rachel envied Santana that she had a little brother. She constantly complained that he was a snot-nosed little brat, but Rachel had yet to see any evidence of that fact. Growing up as an only child she'd often wondered if perhaps having a sibling might have better prepared her for school and its less than accepting ways. Maybe if she'd grown up with a brother or sister, they might have helped her to acclimate, or at least given her somebody to lean on during the harder years.

"What's so great about  _football?_ " he asked, frowning.

She looked from him to the wall. "I'm not much of a sports enthusiast myself," she admitted. "I think soccer's a perfectly adequate game."

He quirked a brow at her. "Yeah?"

"Yes," she told him, nodding. "In fact, it seems much less brutal than football." She wrinkled her nose. "There's too much tackling in football for my like."

"Really?" he asked, looking excited now.

"Really." She tipped her head. "Can I ask  _why_  you've recently started wondering about the merits of football?"

He stared at her a long moment and then his eyes fell and his cheeks flushed. "Puck's on the football team."

Her brows furrowed. "He is," she agreed. "He's one of the better players."

Sebastian scowled again. "He's really cool too."

Despite his words, he sounded like he disagreed.

"Yes, Noah is fairly well liked by his peers…" She pursed her lips. "Although that depends on a day-to-day basis, I think... Some days they like him, others they fear him, and occasionally they question his 'badassness' because of his place in glee club." She shrugged. "I suppose even  _he_ isn't untouchable."

"Do  _you_ like him?"

"I…" She licked her lips thoughtfully. "I think Noah is very talented and smart and he can be very likeable… But he has another side of him that can be angry and manipulative and mischievous…" Her brows furrowed. "I wonder if he's not misunderstood though… But yes, I do like Noah. He's…" She breathed out a long sigh, as words seemed to pale in comparison to the jumble of feelings she had toward him. "It's not easily explained, Bastian. I've known Noah a very long time and I didn't always like him, but now…" She nodded, smiling. "The person he's become, how mature he is, how confident and supportive he is of the Glee club…"

Sebastian stared at her through brooding dark eyes.

She cleared her throat, flushing suddenly under his scrutiny. "In any case, I do like Noah." She raised a brow. "Don't you?" She knew for a fact that Noah was fairly close to the Lopez family; even if he and Santana were no longer 'friends with  _benefits_ ' they remained friends. He consistently referred to Sebastian Lopez as 'the little dude.'

" _No_ ," he said scathingly and turned away. Frowning, he threw his head back and sighed. "Maybe…  _I dunno_ …"

Rachel stared at him a long moment. "Can I ask what Noah's done that you're questioning your friendship?"

Sebastian's eyes fell. "He… He likes a girl I like," he admitted.

Her eyes widened. Any girl Noah liked would have to be a considerable bit older than Sebastian. "He does?"

He glanced at her and then away quickly. "He  _kissed_ her."

Her stomach suddenly clenched and a wave of disappointment hit her so thickly she felt her throat tighten. "H-He did?" she squeaked.

Sebastian glowered, staring at his desktop. "It was on Tana's Facebook…" He glared at her suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's so great about  _him?_ "

"Oh, well…" She stood then, realizing that whatever feelings she might have for Noah, and she'd apparently gotten very good at avoiding them, would have to wait, because Sebastian obviously needed her attention more. Crossing to him, she knelt next to his computer chair. "Noah is a very good person, Sebastian…" She stared up at him, though he tried very hard to avoid looking back at her. "But that doesn't make him  _better_ than you."

He paused, eyes moving to her slowly.

"You're very smart and very handsome too… And you're a fantastic soccer player and I've heard you on your piano, you're very talented…" She smiled up at him. "Whatever girl you end up, she'll be very,  _very_ lucky…"

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "But not  _this_ girl?"

She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Bastian…" She frowned sadly. "I think this girl you like, she might be a little old for you and…" She wasn't sure how to phrase it that this girl, if involved with Noah, might be a skanky, destructive whore… Or perhaps she was letting her own feelings cloud her judgment. For all she knew, Noah's taste had gotten better and he was dating a perfectly adequate  _shiksa_. "And well, I'm  _sure_ you can do better!"

Sebastian shook his head. "No, this girl's  _perfect!_  She's pretty and she's really smart  _and_ she can sing!" His eyes were wide, brows raised seriously.

She felt a stab of indignation.  _Sing?_ This girl Noah was dating could  _sing?_ "Regardless," she gritted out. "Sebastian, you are a very special boy and there is an equally special girl just for you, so…" She squeezed his shoulder. "Don't feel bad that Noah got this girl, because  _you_ … you will find a  _much_ better girl! I'm  _sure_ of it!"

He sighed, nodding at her. "Okay…"

She smiled, standing then. "Good, now… Have you done your homework?"

He groaned, slumping in his chair again. "It's only  _Saturday…_ " he whined.

"That's no excuse." She turned on her heel and walked to his room. "If you need help with anything, I'll be in your sister's room, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, half-smiling at her.

Happy to see his improved mood, Rachel grinned back before she walked off to Santana's room. She wasn't surprised to see her friend was very much asleep and snoring rather loudly. Dropping her used clothes in Santana's laundry basket, she pondered what she could do. She could always offer her assistance to Dr. Lopez with the lawn, or help Sebastian with his homework, or maybe Brittany would pick her up and give her a ride back to her place. Perhaps she should oversee the cleaning of the party disaster…

Instead, curiosity got the better of her and she took a seat at Santana's computer, logging into Facebook quickly and going straight to Santana's page. The latest album, the one Sebastian must have perused for Noah's latest indiscretion, was high on the page, and she clicked it open. It was the full folder of pictures Brittany had taken and that she never finished looking through. She scrolled down to where she left off and eyed the many pictures left. When she found those that concentrated on the actual party, she clicked it open and searched through them, cringing at the mayhem she witnessed. Again, she wondered just how many people had found there way to her house and had taken the time to turn it upside down. There were only a handful or two of people she recognized, the rest were complete strangers. Most of the pictures that she was in had her with Santana or Brittany, happily dancing or singing or drinking an obscene amount of alcohol. But then she found Noah there too; gradually becoming a part of their trio, his arm thrown over Santana's shoulder or around Rachel's waist more often than not. Noticeably, he was wearing his red football jersey and she was still in her favorite party dress.

The further in she clicked, the more obvious it became.

And then she landed on it; the picture that said it all.

Noah had his arms around a short, tanned brunette, his head bowed as his lips slanted deeply and possessively across her mouth. Since Brittany had a timestamp on her pictures, she clicked through not one but six pictures of him and his brunette companion only to find the kiss went on for  _nine straight minutes_. Her flushed face hit her palm and she didn't know if she was embarrassed or proud of herself, because the last of the six pictures at least reminded her of where she got that star-shaped hickey from and just what happened to her dress…

 _"The hell've you been?" Noah's voice asked as he sidled up next to them, his arm swinging around Santana's shoulder before he dragged a wobbly Rachel in by her waist. "Been here a couple hours and all I've seen is Finn try to barbecue some_ legit  _Barbies – don't even know where the fuck he got those - and Karofsky failed epically at beer pong."_

_Rachel beamed up at him. "Noah!" she cried happily, squeezing her arm around his waist._

_He grinned down at her._

_"Oh, you would be very proud of me, Noah! I was_ extremely  _unpleasant toward the local police." She nodded for emphasis._

_He smirked. "That right?"_

_Santana crowed, "Yeah, my girl's got skills."_

_"_ Your  _girl?" he asked, eyeing her with a cocked brow._

_"Down boy," she teased. "She's not into this awesome." She waved down at herself arrogantly. "She got a taste but it didn't take." She shrugged._

_Noah swung his curious eyes back to her and she felt her whole body flush._

_"It was just a kiss…" Rachel admitted._

_Santana snorted. "_ Multiple _," she argued. "Multiple kisses and multiple_ girls _."_

 _Rachel was fairly sure her face was so red it was_ glowing _._

_"Brittany too?" he asked, eyes wide._

_She nodded jerkily. "She was behind me…" She fiddled with the end of dress. "We were skinny-dipping." Her hand suddenly raised and covered her mouth. "I think drinking gives me verbal diarrhea," she muttered, mortified._

_Santana laughed._

_Puck released her to scrub a hand down his mouth. "You're killin' me, Berry," he whined under his breath._

_She reached for him worriedly, her hand splayed on his chest. "I know CPR," she told him seriously._

_He snorted, burying his face in her hair as he hugged her tighter._

_Confused, she looked at Santana, who looked entirely too amused._

_She was fairly sure Puck was sniffing her hair, but then he pulled back and stared down at her with a curious look on his face. "So what else did you two get up to?"_

_"Well…" she sighed, long and loud. "We went to the bar… Against my better judgment… There were some very tasty shots taken off a very willing man's stomach—" He scowled and thinking she'd hurt his pride, she patted his chest. "He wasn't nearly as badass as you, Noah." Returning to her tail, she continued, "And we went to the liquor store, because dad and daddy would be_ so  _disappointed if they came home and found their stash had been tampered with! And then we went streaking in the park, which is why we had to outrun the cops—"_

_"You outran them?" he repeated, blinking at her._

_"Well, out_ drove _them…" She beamed then. "Santana is a_ fantastic _drunk-driver."_

_He half-grinned. "You say so."_

_"I do," she said, nodding. "And then we went skinny-dipping and I considered plastic surgery for my breasts, but Santana talked me out of it and then we had a water fight and then she kissed me and Brittany kissed me and I just kept thinking about how you and I used to kiss and it was so much different and much more pleasant—" She looked past him to Santana, "No offense."_

_Santana shrugged in reply, vastly amused by her story-telling._

_Rachel turned her attention back to Puck, who was staring back at her intensely. "But you seemed to fit me in a much different way. See, I realized that Santana's and Brittany's kisses were_ soft  _and_ light  _and_ feminine  _but_ your  _kisses, Noah, they're…" She took a deep breath. "They're_ deep _, and_ heady _, and my whole body_ trembles _," She shook with the memory, "And—"_

_He dipped his head down and took her lips, his arms circling her waist and dragging her up closer._

_Her breath left her in a whoosh as she wrapped her arms around his neck and met his firm lips and hot tongue. Oh, but this really was much more fitting. She just barely held herself back from jumping up and gripping her legs around his waist; where was a good bed for them to roll across when she needed it? Instead, she satisfied herself with scrubbing her nails down the tail of his hawk and teasing the back of his neck until he growled and gripped her harder. He tasted faintly of bitter beer, but beneath that was a distinctly_ Noah  _flavor that she was desperate to get more of. His nose bumped and rubbed hers and she thought of how different it was to how Santana's lightly nuzzled. This was better; this was_ theirs _; this was Rachel and Noah and it… It was_ perfect _._

 _His hands swept up and down her, kneading and clutching, and then he stumbled them back and suddenly he was sitting and she was in his lap, straddling his legs. Much,_ much _better, she decided, because now she could rock her hips like she wanted to and she could feel his hard body pressed tight to her own; she could melt into the warmth of him and let her hands wander. Their lips parted and she panted hard for breath, whimpering sharply when his face buried in her shoulder and his lips and teeth dedicated all their attention to that wonderfully sensitive spot on her neck. She spread her hands along his shoulders, dragged them down his chest, and then slid them up beneath the rim of his red jersey and the white tank-top beneath it, her fingers dancing along the ridges of his abdomen and scratching along the crisp trail of hair that led down into his jeans. She bit her lip deeply when his hips jerked and she felt the stiff outline of his erection press between her thighs. "Oooh…"_

 _One of his hands slid up the back of her thigh and while an alarm rang in her head that she really shouldn't let those calloused, guitar-rough fingers much higher, she didn't do much more than lean into his touch. He traced the rim of her panties, the pads of his fingers gliding along her butt, sending shivers zinging up and down her back and thighs, centering in her heat. She felt warm all over; her dress almost too much fabric. She wanted it off; she wanted_ his  _clothes off too. Instead she rolled her hips again and brought herself down heavily on the tent in his jeans. She really,_ really  _liked how that felt._

 _"_ Fuck _," he cursed, nipping at her neck._

_She shrieked a little at the bite and then her eyes rolled back as his tongue soothed it._

_"Whoa, take it to a bedroom, kiddies," Santana's voice broke through the haze._

_She pouted. She was very comfortable where she was._

_But then Noah was jerking up and out of the chair, carrying her, and she couldn't say she was disappointed. The jarring movements of his quick steps made things tip and sway around her; it was pretty, how the room spun a little. She blinked rapidly but then focused them on him and everything else just faded away. She kissed his forehead then, where it wrinkled in concentration as he shoved his way through the crowd._

_His jaw ticked and he looked up at her with those beautiful hazel eyes of his. "How drunk are you?" he asked, eyes narrowing a little._

_She smiled brightly. "Drunk enough that Mike swinging on that chandelier doesn't bother me," she told him._

_His head turned, tipping as he watched Mike Chang hanging from her foyer chandelier, one-armed, cheering loudly. He seemed to be debating something as he looked back at her. "You gonna regret this?"_

_She was about to ask him what there was to regret when he squeezed her waist with his arm and then looked down at her, where her body was wrapped tight around him. And with all the honesty of a drunken girl with a very loose tongue, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, letting their noses bump affectionately. "I could never regret you, Noah."_

_There was a split-second where he looked at her like… Like how Santana looked at Brittany. Her heart thumped wildly and her breath caught and she thought, '_ Oh… There you are _.' But then he was smirking again and he was sucking on her bottom lip and she forgot all about love and focused instead on lust and the throbbing between her legs that never seemed so intense as when she was wrapped around_ him _. He started walking again and she saw the stairs that led to the second floor, getting them closer and closer to her bedroom. She wasn't so sure she could wait that long. "There's a spare room. Turn left," she told him._

_He raised his brows at her but turned them, walking through the door quickly._

_She always liked this room. It wasn't much like hers; all pale pastel colors and simple furnishings. But it was nice and quiet and comfortable._

_She wriggled against him. "I need this dress_ off! _" she demanded. She was reaching for the top while he was fiddling with the bottom and the next she knew, the side had split against their hasty ministrations. She laughed at the tear down her side; she'd likely regret it tomorrow since it was anything but cheap but she couldn't find any irritation at the moment._

_Taking advantage, Noah used the hole to rip the whole thing off her and tossed it to the floor._

_He laid her back on the bed and she wiggled her hips, the cool bedspread feeling nice against her overheated skin. He stood there at the edge of the bed, just staring down at her._

_"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked, shoving up to her elbows and blinking at the woozy feeling that filled her head._

_He shook his head jerkily._

_She pouted her lips._

_He half-smiled at her, brow raised. "Beautiful."_

_She grinned at him. "You're very smooth, Noah."_

_He chuckled a little and then he'd crawled between her legs, kneeling there, so close that the backs of her thighs touched the tops of his and his knees were tucked up beneath her butt. He slid his hands down her legs, palms scraping atop her thighs so,_ so  _slowly. She shivered at the attention and watched as he dipped his head, his lips falling to her navel, nose nuzzling along her belly-button. She reached for him, threading her fingers through his 'hawk, gripping it as he pressed kisses up her body, resting his chin between her breasts. Earlier that night, while dressing, she remembered thinking she wouldn't need a bra with her dress, now she felt those old insecurities filling up as she lay so openly bare before him. He rubbed a faintly whiskered cheek along the curve of one though and she arched up into the feeling. That felt_ nice! _She gripped his hair tighter and he smirked at her knowingly. Before she could tell him being 'smug' was not attractive, he'd turned his head and wrapped his lips around her pebbled nipple. Oh—_ Oh! _His tongue flicked, teeth scraping along her soft, sensitive flesh, and her hips rocked of their own accord. He laved and suckled her breast until she was squirming beneath him and then he let it go with a_ pop! _before turning to the other._

_His big hand dragged down her side, tickling her ribs, squeezing her hip, and then he was hooking his fingers in the edge of her panties and tugging them down, lower, lower. She wiggled her hips, trying to help him, to ease the warm ache. She pulled one leg out and then the other and her brows furrowed when instead of tossing them away, he stuck the red lace in his jeans pocket. "Noah-?"_

_He cupped her then; his warm palm snugly fit between her thighs._

_Her head fell back and she choked on a cry._

_His mouth trailed up, teeth and tongue paying attention to her collar bone before he moved higher, briefly kissing the hollow of her throat before his face was equal with hers. He just stared at her a long moment and she was distinctly aware that she was completely naked… and he was fully dressed._

_She frowned. "You're wearing too many clothes."_

_He grinned. "Am I?"_

_She nodded. Reaching for the end of his jersey, she tugged it up his back, disappointed when his hand left her, but unable to help it as he helped her pull both it and his wife-beater off, dropping them somewhere on the floor. She licked her lips as she set eyes on all his tanned skin, hard with muscle. She spread her hands over his shoulders, leading them down over his pecs, stopping to inspect his nipple-ring, and then slid them down over his ribs and his tensed stomach. "You're beautiful too," she told him._

_"Badass," he corrected._

_"Beautifully badass," she decided._

_He smirked. "I'll take it."_

_She looked up at him teasingly. "You didn't have a choice." She tugged at the waist of his jeans. "These too."_

_He looked down and then back at her. "Maybe when you're a little more sober."_

_She stuck out her lower lip. "No-ahhh…" she sighed, slumping back to the bed._

_"I'm not cashing your v-card when you're drunk, Rachel," he told her seriously._

_She stared up at him from half-lidded eyes. "Why?"_

_His jaw-ticked again and she reached for it, wanting to soothe him._

_He covered her hand, holding it to his cheek and then he turned his face and kissed her palm._

_"Oh," she murmured, eyes widening a little._

_He looked back at her, brow raised. "Maybe you're more sober than I thought."_

_She wrinkled her nose. "I highly doubt that."_

_He snorted._

_"I drank and drank and draaank," she told him, wiggling her hips. "Santana says I'm a_ shot-girl _, but…" She shook her head. "Shots don't taste like pink."_

_"No?" he asked, amused._

_"No." She frowned. With her other hand, she reached for him again, playing with the front of his 'hawk, letting the ends tickle her palm. "Why won't you make love to me, Noah?"_

_"Thought you figured that out."_

_"Because it would be_ really  _making love, wouldn't it?" She looked up at him. "Not_ fucking _, like you do with those_ shiksas _…" Her eyes narrowed._

_He smirked. "Say it again."_

_She blinked. "Shiksas."_

_He shook his head. "No, say_ fuck _, Berry…"_

 _She shivered. Oh, but she liked how_ he  _said it. "You first."_

_He laughed under his breath. "Fuck."_

_She nodded, rocking her hips up. "That's a very stimulating word, Noah."_

_"Fuck." He leaned down and kissed her nose. "Fuck." Her lips. "Fuck." He stretched lower and touched his lips to one nipple, "Fuck," and the other, "Fuck." And he kissed three down her stomach. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…"_

_She shivered, fingers clenching the blanket beneath her._

_He'd moved back so his face was low between her thighs, his hands sliding beneath, lifting her. "Your turn," he told her._

_Before she could do much more than bite her lip, his tongue flatted against her folds and dragged up._

_"Oh,_ fuck! _" she cried._

_He chuckled against her, the vibrations making her whimper. He suckled her slowly, his tongue delving inside her, circling her clit, his teeth gently scraping._

_Finn had never done this._

Nobody  _had ever done this to her._

 _It was—_ Euphoric _._

 _Noah spread her legs as he tasted every inch of her; licking and sucking and teasing her into a shaking fit. She gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he traced an infinity sign, round and round, just barely ghosting over her clit, and tears filled her eyes, the frustration bone deep. And yet… She didn't want it to end. It was so,_ so  _good…_

 _"Noah…_ Please! _" She wanted more and more and—_

_His fingers joined his tongue, one sliding deep inside her and rubbing, curling._

_Her toes furled and her neck strained as her head was thrown back. "O-ooh, Noah! Yes! Yes!"_

_A second finger joined, plunging slowly, then fast, then stopping entirely when she was so_ close _. She whimpered, dragging her nails down his biceps, pressed down against her thighs to keep them apart. His tongue put all of its attention on her clit and his fingers started thrusting again, pushing her to the brink without pause._

_An orgasm blinded her as she lay arched up on the bed, panting and sweaty, and nearly shouting his name, repeatedly. She floated somewhere just inches atop her body, vibrating and on the verge of numbness, a tingling sensation zinging up and down her every nerve. And he was still lapping at her, just soft little strokes of his tongue, until she fell boneless to the mattress. He pressed one last kiss to her and then climbed back up, rubbing his mouth against her breast before he buried his face in her neck, kissed her racing pulse, and then laid back next to her._

_When she had the strength, she rolled over to face him, holding her head up on her arm. She looked from his face to his obvious erection and then back. "Do you—?"_

_"I'm good."_

_She frowned. "You look like you're in pain."_

_"'m_ awesome _," he argued, opening his eyes to look at her. With a lazy smirk, he rolled to his side to meet her and his hand fell to squeeze her hip, thumb rubbing circles into her skin._

_"Is this because I'm inebriated?"_

_"Which part?"_

_Her brows furrowed. "Don't you… I mean, wouldn't you rather I… Or…" She blushed. "I don't have a gag reflex."_

_His jaw ticked. "You're killin' me," he reiterated._

_She huffed. "That's not the response I wanted."_

_He laughed a little and then he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. "When you're not drunk, and I really,_ really _hope you remember this, you come see me and we'll…" He shrugged. "We'll figure all this out."_

_Her brows furrowed. "Figure it out how?"_

_He kissed her forehead. "When I_ have  _you, I'm getting_ all  _of you," he said simply._

_And before she could question what he meant, he rolled off the bed, standing. She watched him move around, his muscles flexing deliciously, rippling beneath that tanned skin that made her mouth water. He grabbed up his tank top and yanked it on before reaching out for her hand and helping her to her wobbly feet._

_She frowned down at her dress. "I don't have spare clothes in here."_

_He nodded, but before she could ask him to go get her a set, he tugged his jersey over her head, smiling as it nearly reached her knees. "Good?"_

_She looked down at herself. "Red is my color."_

_He fingered the red lace panties in his pocket and smirked. "I know."_

_She flushed, but there was something oddly_ arousing  _about his possessive desire to hold on to a little piece of her. She would want them back eventually, they were her favorite pair, but she thought that might just happen when she went to see him about clarifying their relationship and, perhaps, experimenting with their chemistry a little more…_

 _She couldn't wait_.

Rachel gulped, leaning back in her chair, her face flushed. Well… She blushed as she remembered telling Sebastian he would find someone better than Noah's latest conquest, all the while thinking whoever she may have been she was nowhere near as talented or as good for him as  _she_ was. Only  _she_ could be jealous of  _herself_ …

Sighing, she shook her head. This was… complicated.

In fact, she turned to look at Santana, silently willing her to wake up so they could discuss just what insanity had come of one particularly outrageous Friday night. There was a very loud, very insistent part of her that said she shouldn't be embarrassed and she shouldn't want to take it back. While her actions with Noah had been  _brash_ and  _forward_ , she couldn't deny that they'd been  _incredible_. Not just the feeling, although that was mind-blowing, but the connection she'd had with him. The intimacy and how  _right_ it all felt was so obvious she felt like she'd been  _stupid_ to ignore it as long as she had. Even before Santana and she had become friends, she and Noah had been on the edge of something. He'd kept his distance after she and Finn got back together, to an extent. He'd still come by to watch football and baseball and whatever other sports were playing at the time with her dads. And he  _did_ bring vegan snacks with him, much to her delight. But if Finn was around, he stayed clear, saying he didn't need to cause problems for her. She missed him though and so she made it a priority to always include Noah in her life, whether it was just practicing or writing a song or doing her homework. He was studying more and going to his math class and working hard to graduate and get out of Lima. Where Finn was at ease, laid back, happy to stay in the one-horse town, Noah put all of his energy into making sure he wouldn't be held back. Sure, he probably should have started earlier than senior year, but what mattered was that he was trying  _now_  and she  _knew_ that he wouldn't let anything get in the way of him leaving Lima,Ohio. She admired that dedication.

And now that she no longer had Finn to distract her, she found herself questioning why it was she and Noah had always remained in the friend zone. Yes, there was that brief relationship two years ago, but that was… Well, it was fun and enjoyable, good for distraction, but they hadn't put there all into it. He'd had Quinn and Beth on his mind and she was still in love with Finn. She thought it would be different now; they'd matured and grown and she was almost certain that their feelings were requited. What she felt for him was hard to describe; there was passion and lust there, without a doubt. But their friendship allowed her to see him in a light other than sex-shark. It allowed her to see both Noah  _and_ Puck and she liked both sides equally; because there couldn't be one without the other. Santana was right; she recognized that Noah needed his Fight Club, though she hoped he'd eventually find something else to get his frustrations out, and she didn't want to change all of him. She didn't want to  _change_ him at all; she just wanted to see him find  _himself_ and get away from his destructive behavior; because it was beneath him. He was better than what he made himself to be; better than the Lima Loser stigma that followed him, which was based more on his father's actions and his answering rebellion than his true self.

Her thought process was overwhelming and she needed to bounce it off someone else, so she turned to her partner in crime; probably the  _reason_ this had come about at all.

Santana was still sleeping, but Rachel didn't feel bad about sitting down on the edge of her bed abruptly, making it shake with her added weight. When it didn't immediately garner the right response, she repeated it, until finally Santana stirred and blinked blearily at her. "The hell, Rachel?"

She worried her lip. "I need to talk to you."

She sighed, rolling her pillow up under her head and burying her face in it. "Later."

"No, Santana, I… I need to talk to you  _now_."

She cracked and eye and glared at her. "This about Puck?"

She flushed.

Rolling onto her side, she held an arm open. "Fine, if you're gonna keep me up to talk about  _boys_  I want cuddles."

Rachel raised a brow.

"Hey, if Brit's not here to snuggle, you need to step up!" she argued.

Rolling her eyes, she rolled to her side and backed up into Santana's embrace. It was warm and comfortable and she even relaxed a little more when Santana stroked her hair softly. "Okay, so let's talk…"

"I kissed Noah," she blurted.

She snorted. "I think you did more than that…"

She flushed deeper. "I… Well I tried to… But then he didn't…" She shook her head, closing her eyes. "Regardless of what we did, it's my  _feelings_ that I'm more concerned about."

Her fingers stopping stroking her hair. "You think he'll hurt you?"

She sounded almost…  _angry_ with her.

Rachel rolled over to face her. "No… Not  _really_ …" She looked down. "Noah's very… He's very…" Her nose wrinkled. "He's been with a lot of girls… and women, but…" She looked up at her. "But I know that what he feels for me, it's… It's  _real_." She swallowed tightly. "And I think… I  _think_  I want that…" She stared at her searchingly.

Santana rubbed a hand over her face, scrubbing her eyes. "You can't just  _think_ it, Rach, you need to  _know_  it."

She frowned.

"Look, Puck is… He  _was_ a player and he screwed around with a  _lot_ of girls, but…" She licked her lips, staring at her seriously. "But he never looked at them like he does you. He didn't  _try_ with them like he does with you." She shrugged, reaching out and pushing Rachel's hair behind her shoulder. "So if you do this, you need to be all in… 'Cause he's gonna put his everything into making you happy… or whatever."

Rachel felt a rush of emotion fill her chest. "When I'm with him…" She shook her head. "I've never felt like that with anyone… I've never felt as—as  _seen_ as I am with him." Her brows furrowed. "It's like when he's looking at me, he's seeing…  _me_. Not—" She rolled her eyes. "Not Rachel Berry – Broadway Freak. Not even Rachel Berry – Glee Loser. It's just… It's just  _Rachel_ … You know?"

She grinned. "Yeah, B… 'Cause Brit just sees Santana… Not the Cheerio or the bitch, not the school slut… Just San."

She nodded. "I want that… I want Noah and I have to have what you and Brittany have, only… Only it'll be  _Rachel and Noah_  and we'll… We'll have our own things." She smiled softly and then turned to look at her. "I can't thank you enough, Santana… Not just for helping me when everything went downhill with Finn, but… But for showing me that I could step out of my comfort zone and still be myself… That people could still like  _me_  and I—I could like myself."

"You're so sentimental…" She laughed lightly, but reached out and squeezed her hand. "Besides Brittany, you're my best friend…" She stared at her seriously. "And that's not gonna change, so you can stop worrying…"

She nodded, her lips spreading wider in a grin. "You're my best friend too."

She rolled her eyes. "Well as your best friend, I'm telling to go get your boy, all right? Take my car…" She waved her off and then pressed her face into her pillow. "Not all of us got to sleep off last night in a tub."

Rachel chuckled, hopping off the bed. She leaned pack and pressed a kiss to Santana's cheek. "Thank you!" Turning, she ran off, grabbing up the car keys and hurrying outside. She waved goodbye to Dr. Lopez and took off in Santana's car, not even bothering to turn on the radio to calm her nerves.

Driving entirely too much like her best friend, she blew past a stop sign and was honked at by another driver, but her good mood didn't falter. She sped off toward Noah's house, foot heavy on the gas pedal, all the while trying to figure out what she would say. Speech after speech came to mind - some too sentimental, others not enough - before finally she was parked in his driveway, staring up at his two-story blue house, his skateboard discarded in the front yard next to his sister's pink bike, training wheels still attached. His mother's car was thankfully absent; she was sure Mrs. Puckerman would have monopolized her time if she were there; no doubt talking up Noah in hopes they would date.

Hopping out of the car, she closed the door behind her with a thud and then bit her lip. All of her planning and she still didn't know what she was going to say. Climbing the stairs, she rubbed her sweaty palms off on her jeans, courtesy of Santana's skirt-lacking wardrobe. She raised her fist, hesitated, let it fall, and then tried again. By the fourth misfire it just opened, and she was left staring at a smirking Noah Puckerman. Because he looked smug, she was tempted to tell him she had the wrong address and then walk away; she couldn't help it if she was stubborn.

"Who  _is_ it?" his little sister called out.

"None of your business," he shouted back and then stepped out on the porch, making her retreat a little. "Watch your Hannah Montana shit, Squirt." He closed the door and then looked back at her, tucking his hands in his jeans. "Hey."

She licked her lips, eyes falling. "Hi." She flushed when it came out like a squeak.

He was grinning again. "So… You throw a goody party,Berry…"

She looked up at him through her lashes. "It was certainly memorable," she agreed.

His eyes seemed to darken. "Yeah, I won't be forgetting it anytime soon…"

She bit her lip. "And if… If you didn't have to forget it…?" She tucked her hair behind her ear. "If perhaps it could be a regular occurrence, possibly with the advantage of a more steady background…" Her brows furrowed. "I'm doing this wrong…"

He chuckled. "I dunno… I kinda like your approach."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Noah, I…" She looked up at him firmly. "You said when I was a little more sober, and if I remembered what happened, that we could… discuss where this was going."

He nodded shortly. "Where d'you want it to go, Rach?"

"Well…" she looked away thoughtfully. "I-I'm going to New York when school ends… That's non-negotiable."

He half-smiled. "Wouldn't want you  _not_ to…"

She looked back at him, her chest warming. "Maybe… If things work out… You… could come with me…" she offered haltingly.

Nodding his head, he stared at the ground a long second. "Guess that's better than just following you down like a stalker… like I was kinda planning to."

She blinked. "You've applied for college in New York?"

He shrugged. "Not really… I dunno if college is my thing yet... Doesn't mean I can't make it work me down there." He stared at her. "When I want things, I go for them… I want out of Lima and I want you, Rachel… You take overNew York, then I know where I'm going after graduation."

She beamed back at him. "I can see you there…" She nodded. "I can see us together for a very long time." She raised a brow. "If you're so willing…?"

He smirked, reaching a hand out to grip her hip and tug her closer. "I'm in…  _All_ in."

Hands splayed across his chest, she stared up at him. "Me too," she said genuinely.

His fingers speared through her hair, cupping the nape of her neck. "Y'know… Friday was pretty awesome…" He lowered his face to hers, their noses bumping, "Saturday was better."

She smiled against his lips. "As a very wise best friend of mine might say, it was  _epic_."

Standing there on his porch, leaning into his embrace and the very  _right_ feeling of his kiss, Rachel was fairly sure that the thank you she'd given Santana earlier was little in comparison to all she had really given her. It wasn't just a party experience or a very messy house that she truly hoped the cleaning crew could somewhat fix. It wasn't just a credit card bill that was sure to give her dads heart palpitations or the lingering fear that the local police department might recognize her some day. It wasn't even the lesbian kiss that was an eye-opening experience to say the least. Santana had given her friendship, all encompassing, and an understanding of herself; an acceptance of who she was. And she had given her love; a real inside look. She saw it between Brittany and Santana and recognized that it was  _not_ what she and Finn had, but it was something similar to what she and Noah  _could_ and  _would_ have. There was no thanks large enoughfor what she'd been given, but she thought, if it all worked out, maybe making her maid of honor at her and Noah's future wedding would go a long way in showing her appreciation.

Noah drew back from her lips, panting, and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.

"Hey Noah," she murmured.

He grunted, thumb stroking her neck until she shivered.

She stared up into his half-open hazel eyes. "Next Friday, don't let me sleep in the tub."

He grinned, squeezing her. "Deal."

[ **End.** ]


End file.
